You've Lost Your Head
by SneverusSnapers
Summary: What alternative could you be if you lose your job as a headless monk? You know, you ARE headless. There's only one job left available to this slightly porky headless monk, read and find out. Because headless monks are cool. One-shot.


**A/N: **This is just because headless monks are cool, hilarious and, of course, headless. This is a random one-shot that will never be built on, but please review anyway. Let it be known that I do_ not_ like doctor who that much, I liked the old doctor who but the new one is, to be frank, impossible to keep up with and very, very annoying. So, despite them having eyes everywhere in the new series (and me having a phobia of eyes – how did I guess their creepy theme?) I have struggled along and kept up, but no more. All I'm going to say is that is my first, and probably last doctor who fic, and it is dedicated to all of those fans of the _old_ doctor who out there, the one that ate jelly babies and had a stripy scarf. And I don't own doctor who, or I'd have done something about the aforementioned problem. In this I do not mean to offend anyone, especially not all of you headless monks out there, and I'll doubt you'll find it funny at all, but still; it was more for me than for you. So anyway, here is "You've Lost Your Head".

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><p><span>You've Lost Your Head<span>

The headless monk bowed his head, or rather lack of, at the next monk passing by and continued almost gliding through the corridor, robes sweeping across the cold, hard metallic flooring of the space ship. Being headless had its advantages actually, you were no longer needed to eat to sustain yourself, and you did it purely for pleasure. Unfortunately this headless monk in question had quite a soft spot for pleasure and was extremely fat. And by extremely fat, I mean whopping. This monk was so fat he was, in fact, struggling to squeeze through a porthole that would lead him to the office of the head headless monk (yes, the _head_ headless monk) to discuss his eating habits. Which, the monk contemplated as he popped out of the other side into the dimly lit shrine, was quite unfair. Just because all of the other monks could actually _fit_ into their headless monk robes didn't mean he should be discriminated against and taken off prayer duty. Then again, the monk noted, prayer duty was really dull. As everyone knows, he added, you only become a headless monk for the stylish robes and the headless feasts in which you try to find out how to eat without actually having a head. You also try to work out how to _work out_ anything without having a head. Then, of course, you become a headless monk for the simple reason that your head is often the least flattering part of your body, so you simply get rid of it, and then cover up the rest of yourself with the long, sweeping robes the certain headless monk was wearing at the moment. Or was meant to, instead he had to retire to a bin bag to cover his personage, which was less than flattering for both him and the order of headless monks, he could tell you.

Also, when a headless monk has no head, he also therefore has no mouth. And without a mouth you can both not eat _and_ speak, which in fact, is very annoying. So the monks worked out a way for sign language, though then they were told off by the head headless monk, with a certain amount of hand signs himself, that headless monks weren't allowed to show their hands since they showed their killer guns inbuilt in themselves. The killer guns, I might add, which were always the greatest highlight of being a headless monk. You could put up with all of the tedious worshipping and even the headless-ness if it started to get you down, what with suddenly becoming a midget without the height that a head gives you, but the killer zapping guns always made up for it. Always.

So, instead of hand signatures they had 'head' bobbing, which was ironically named since none of the headless monks actually possessed a head. And, since none of the monks could talk to decide how they would communicate with one another, there were several different versions of this 'head' bobbing going on. This particular headless monk was fluent in both the straight and the flickering versions and could even go as far to say he could use half of the rolling version. The only problem with this form of communication is that it often ended with quite a few neck cricks, but pain was part of a headless monk's life and they had learnt how to block out pain. This, of course, wasn't very helpful when a headless monk got into an accident because the monk wouldn't actually know they had been hurt, so the practise had to be stopped.

The head headless monk bobbed his head, or rather neck, jerkily in the signature style of the flickering 'head' bobbing. The fat headless monk would have scrunched up his eyes if he had any, when he deciphered what the head headless monk was saying.

"_Filk dunp seeniter arrele dolip feenjip hidesap."_

Oh, you _don't_ speak subterranean gobbledygook? Well then, I'll have to translate it into English.

"_You are too fat for a headless monk, you are fired."_

The look on the fat, or shall we say, slightly porky, headless monk's face (or lack of) was one of horror.

"_Rigit!"_ He squealed.

Sorry, sorry, keep forgetting you speak English.

"_Fired!" _He squealed, rocking his stump of a neck in dismay, "_you can't fire me!"_

"_Why not?"_ Asked the head headless monk, a look of concern absent from the absence of his face.

"_Without a head, what else could I be?"_

"_Well, there's only one thing," _admitted the head headless monk reluctantly.

"_Yes, tell me. Whatever it is, I'll do it, just tell me what!" _Squealed the slightly porky headless monk.

"_Are you sure you want me to te-"_

"_YES!" _Yelped the slightly porky headless monk.

"_Alright"_, the head headless monk sighed, _"but you're not going to like it."_

"_Just tell me already!"_

"_You could be..."_

"_Yes? Yes?"_ squealed the slightly porky headless monk in anticipation.

"_A headless nun."_


End file.
